[This story does include instances of three bodily functions so if that is not something you want to read, stop right now. Per the title, there's some spanking, too. All the characters are over 18.]
I was nervous when I accepted a really good job in my home city but realized it would mean I would be returning to live at home again. Going to college was a liberating experience because my mother especially had been very controlling right until I departed for a wonderful four years away.
I didn't even come home much, since I would arrange to spend my summers doing something either really interesting or remunerative rather than return to being under her control. In fact, I was quite worried now because I expected she would insist on being able to discipline me for whatever she regarded as misbehavior.
She had spanked me even when I was home for vacation and was over 18 to boot. So, I would expect this to resume now and it made me very frightened, too.
We seemed to get along well when I arrived. She actually seemed pleased to see me and hugged me in a way to which I was totally unaccustomed. You should understand that my father passed away several years ago, but my mom is quite youthful and goes out frequently. I do have a younger brother, Art, who is home from college. He's 20 and she does discipline him. For some reason, this doesn't seem to bother him. I can't understand how anyone his age wouldn't be furious at the prospect of being spanked.
All went well until the second day I was home. My mother embarrassed me mightily at breakfast in front of my brother by asking me for how long I had been on my period. As it happened, I had gotten it just before I left for home so now was the fourth day and by then, it usually has begun to fade.
My face turned the color of menstrual flow (sorry about that comparison!) and I told her that I had started before I left for home and was now on my fourth day.
She then said she was not pleased to see a used tampon in the trash container in the bathroom.
"You should keep your period to yourself, Susan," she said crisply.
I began to ask her why she had decided to bring it up, and the minute I said that, I knew I was in trouble.
"Susan," she said sharply, "you know that when you are in this house, you will behave, or you will be disciplined. You have just earned yourself a spanking."
I blushed and actually began to plead with her for forgiveness since I had just come home.
"You were spanked before you left when you were 18," she said, "and as long as you are here, I will not hesitate to discipline you when it is necessary."
I could see that my brother was barely keeping from grinning or chuckling. He knew she'd spank him if he interfered in any way.
"Stand up, Susan," she ordered, in that voice to which I had always been accustomed. "and bring your skirt above your waist and pull down your panties. Then you may lie across my lap," she added as she pushed her chair back from the table.
I did what she had told me to do and found myself bare-assed across her tweed skirted lap.
She immediately began spanking me on alternate cheeks, then every so often she would give me five extra-hard spanks on one cheek and then the same on the other. I began crying after about 50 spanks and she slowly finished the spanking. I felt humiliated.
"I hope that will teach you to behave like the grown-up you presumably are," she informed me firmly.
I apologized for my behavior and promised to flush my tampons in the future.
That seemed to arouse her in terms of her annoyance, and I was taken aback when she told me that to teach me to use the toilet properly, she would require me to ask her permission before using the toilet and that she would watch me use the toilet and wipe myself afterward.
I must admit that she did used to impose this horrid punishment when I was spanked after turning 18. It is truly awful for you to have to ask someone's permission to perform a bodily function that is normally highly private.
"Do you need to use the toilet now?" my mother then asked me rather offhandedly.
"Yes, I do, Mother," I replied in as even a tone as I could manage.
"Then come with me so we can deal with this little situation," my mother answered, indicating by her tone that she regarded this as an annoyance.
When she and I went into the bathroom, she told me I could go ahead and sit on the toilet seat but not to lower my panties. Then she asked me to tell her what I needed to do. I was instructed to respond either that I had to wee-wee or do plop-plop. She knew that making me use these childish words would humiliate me even more.
"I need to wee-wee and do plop-plop," I answered, painfully.
"Do you need to change your tampon?" she asked.
"Yes, I believe my tampon will need changing," I answered coolly.
"Then you may pull your panties down," she said, "so we can deal with your need for a fresh tampon before you will be given permission to start to urinate or defecate."
"Then proceed to remove your tampon and show it to me," she went on.
I reached for the tampon string and gently and evenly pulled it so that the soiled tampon emerged. I held it by the string as I lifted it in front of me and saw that it was colored dark red with my menstrual flow about two-thirds of the way down the sides.
"It looks like you are still having your period," she commented. "Please drop the tampon into the toilet now."
I did just that, dropping it between my legs into the bowl.
She saw the Tampax box and took a tampon out and handed it to me. I'd never realized how embarrassing it is to rip open a tampon and place the applicator into your vagina under the eyes of your mom who is also disciplining you. Somehow, I managed to get it in right under severe stress!